


Change is Brewing

by Robin_Fai



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: A Major Character Is Dead, Alternate Universe, But here it is, Gen, I don't kill them off, I know no one asked for this, Private Investigators, they're just dead in the past in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Fai/pseuds/Robin_Fai
Summary: When Morse grows tired of the corruption in Oxford County Police, Miss Frazil makes an unexpected suggestion for his change of career: private investigator.
Relationships: Dorothea Frazil & Endeavour Morse
Comments: 25
Kudos: 34





	Change is Brewing

**Author's Note:**

> Is this crack? I do not know. It started that way but I think it devolved.   
> Plus I know literally no one asked for this, but once I had the idea I just had to write it.  
> Enjoy!

“What was it you wanted, Morse?” Dorothea Frazil asked him. The weary resignation in her tone spoke to a belief that whatever it was he was about to ask of her, she would likely do it despite her better judgement. 

Morse glanced at her then went back to staring out the window of the pub. “I was wondering if you wanted some inside information on corruption in the Oxford County Police?” 

Whatever she had expected, and it really was a fools game to try and predict Morse, this was not it.

“From whom exactly?” She knew full well what he was suggesting, but she needed to hear him say it.

“From me,” Morse sighed. 

Dorothea knew that he was sighing because, whatever it was that had happened this time, he had no doubt taken it to heart, but she had to bite her lip to stop from laughing because he really was the perfect image of the tortured and overly-dramatic poet sometimes and it was just a tad ridiculous. When he smiled, genuinely smiled, and on the rare occasions he laughed it was like looking at a completely different person. Those moments were like glimpses of the person he might have become had the world not seen his weaknesses and torn them apart.

“Morse, if you go telling me all the secrets of Oxford’s police you know it will come back on you,” she cautioned him. “They will know, or at least suspect, who passed the information on. You’ll never see a promotion, if you’re even still in a job come the end of the year.”

Morse looked at her again, his expression serious. “I don’t plan to be there any more when the story hits.”

“You’re leaving the police?” Now it was Dorothea’s turn to sigh. The lad really was master of self-destruction.

“I tried fighting for justice, but the place is rotten. No one is interested in cleaning it up. I joined to make a difference, to solve cases, but that doesn’t happen unless it suits the interests of the people steering the course of everything.” He contemplated his hands in his lap.

“What will you do?” Dorothea asked. She knew he had no family to speak of any more since his father passed. She had helped get him to Lincolnshire to say goodbye. It had broken her heart to see him so lost and forlorn. He had never really been the same since then. Getting shot, left for dead, and saying goodbye to your father all in the space of a week would change the best of men.

Morse shrugged, “I don’t know really. I could pick up my degree. Teach maybe.”

Dorothea snorted. “Don’t be so ridiculous Morse. You’re never going to finish that degree, and you’d hate teaching.”

“What do you suggest then?” Morse bit back at her, but there was no anger in his voice. He sounded so tired. 

The system really had worn Morse down. Dorothea missed the shine he had when he was brilliant, when he had worked something out that was so complex that it seemed unsolvable. She knew he often talked to her about cases because she was interested, and because she listened. She had seen all too often how his colleagues dismissed him. It was the easy option for them. Morse wasn’t naturally easy to be around and he was significantly more intelligent than most of the rest of the local plods put together. So, he appeared as a threat to them and did nothing to put them at their ease. Then there was his aggressive virtue. No man who was so determined to avoid corruption was fated to do well in Oxford. Whatever he had to say she knew it would make for a good article, but it wouldn’t change anything.

There was one idea she had had for quite some time but until now she had held back form suggesting it because she suspected it would be met with derision.

“Have you ever considered becoming a private detective?”

As expected Morse looked at her in confusion his lip curling with disdain. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She patted Morse’s hand. “You are a _good_ detective. You just don’t fit well with the system. You’d still get to work on cases, but there’s a lot less rules and paperwork to slow you down. Plus you wouldn’t be hindered by that lot.” She tilted her head to a group of officers who had just arrived and were already in the process of harassing the barmaid.

To his credit, Morse actually seemed to consider her suggestion. He took a long drink and stared at the rowdy newcomers. 

“I wouldn’t have the slightest clue how to go about setting up as a private investigator, and to be honest I’m not sure I’d manage an actual business very well.” 

Morse’s objections seemed honest and considered, but not against the profession itself. Dorothea considered her next move carefully.

“I have a… friend. They work as a private investigator and I know they’re busy currently. Looking to take on a partner. You wouldn’t have to run the business, and you’d get training from an expert.”

Morse frowned and finished his drink. Dorothea couldn’t help but find it quite sweet the way Morse still drank lemonade, despite what the world threw at him. He seemed the sort that once he took to alcohol it would take to him in equal measure.

“I don’t know…” Morse gave her a half smile. Clearly he was tempted.

“How about I arrange a meeting? You could go over, see the set up, and get a feel for what the work would be like. Gives you a chance to see if you get along too.” 

“Maybe?” Morse traced figures on the condensation of his glass and avoided eye contact.

“Go on. You’ll never know if you don’t try.” Dorothea pulled a business card from her jacket pocket and handed it over to Morse. 

He turned the card over in his thoughtful hands several times and then put it in his pocket. “Alright. I’ve handed my notice already, so I’ll be free in a couple of weeks.”

Dorothea sighed in exasperation that Morse had already acted before he even knew how he was going to support himself. The lad really was far too impulsive.

“Another?” She nodded at his now empty glass. Morse smiled in agreement, and it was one of those honest smiles she was always so happy to see.

\-----------

Morse loitered on the street far longer than was necessary before heading in to the meeting Miss Frazil had arranged. He couldn’t claim it was hard to find despite the entrance being rather nondescript and sandwiched between a bakery and a launderette because there was an immaculately shiny plaque next to the door which clearly read Fred Thursday, Private Investigator. Eventually he gathered up his courage and made his way through the door and up the stairs.

He was thrown out of all his expectations from the instant the door to the office was opened. A brown-haired woman in an immaculate grey skirt suit greeted him warmly, forced him to sit down, and set about making tea. There was no one else in sight. Miss Frazil hadn’t mentioned a secretary, so who was this? The Investigator’s wife maybe?

He looked around the spacious room and felt more of his pre-conceptions of private investigating being blown away. The office was bright and airy, there were potted plants and vases, the filing cabinet had a doily on it. He was seated on a small, but comfortable sofa, and there were two matching armchairs clustered around a coffee table covered in magazines. There were two immaculate desks with typewriters and fringed lamps upon them. It was all very… feminine. Where was the chain smoking veteran in a suit holed up in a dark and disheveled office he had been led to expect by the occasional noir film he’d taken in with one girlfriend or another? There was even a small kitchenette with floral teacups on display for god’s sake.

The woman who had let him in set a tray with a tea-set and a selection of cakes down on the coffee table and settled down into an armchair.

“There now, you help yourself love. You look like you could do with feeding up.” 

Morse did his best to smile politely as he took a small slice of battenburg cake. The woman poured him a cup of tea and pressed it into his hands. He had no choice but to hold it as there was no room left on the table and he was loathe to risk staining the sofa.

“Thea has told me so much about you dear. I hear you’ve got quite the head for puzzles on those smart shoulders of yours.”

Morse was more baffled than ever. How did this woman know so much about him? What role did she have in the agency? How did he not know Miss Frazil went by Thea? 

“I… Yes. I do quite like puzzles. Crosswords. That sort of thing.” He mumbled inarticulately and tried to settle his nervousness by drinking some tea.

“Well, I am sure that will come in useful on cases. That and your time with the police of course!” The woman said brightly, then quickly covered her mouth. “Oh! Not that you’ve accepted yet of course. Thea did make it clear that you just wanted to see how things worked. But I’m sure we’ll get along just perfectly. It will be so nice to have a helping hand when the tricky ones come in, and there have been more and more of those since things began to go downhill with the police. I don’t mean to imply yourself of course. Thea told me why you left.” The woman reached down and poured herself a cup of tea and added some sugar. “So, did you have any questions for me before we get started?”

Morse stared at the woman in open confusion. She seemed to be implying that _she_ was the investigator! Then who was the ‘Fred’ on the card Miss Frazil had given him? He cleared his throat and tried to think of a polite way to ask, but eventually he just blurted it out.

“The card said _Fred_ Thursday?”

“Ah yes! An unusual nickname for a woman I grant you, but Winifred is rather long-winded and I was never that fond of being called Win. Plus it works beautifully for getting clients. Some men still seem to think that a woman is entirely incapable of rational thought, let alone investigating crimes and the like. Some of them even assume I’m the secretary – can you imagine!” She smiled widely at Morse and he felt utterly ashamed of having fallen into the same assumption. Though in his defence Miss Frazil hadn’t mentioned the detective friend of hers was female and, as Fred had said herself, it was an unusual name for a woman.

Morse smiled and sipped at his tea. What _had_ he gotten into?

“How did you get into investigating as a career?” He asked to try and divert from his mistake.

“Oh, that was courtesy of my dear late husband. He was with the police. Always used to come home and tell me about his cases and I did so like helping him out. I even thought about joining up, probably would’ve done too if it weren’t for the kiddies. But then there was some nasty gang violence and he got shot.” Fred’s face grew sad. “We moved to Oxford for his health, but sadly he passed away not long after. I had to think of what was best for the kiddies so I did a course and set up this agency. It used to work beautifully around the school runs when I needed to do those. Since I’ve been free to go full time things have just gone from strength to strength. I’ll be so glad to have someone to work with.” She leaned forward and patted his knee.

Morse was all at sea. This was very much not what he had been expecting. He knew he wasn’t committed to joining yet, but how could he disappoint such an earnest and kind woman when she looked at him with such hope in her eyes.

“I’m looking forward to it too.” He smiled as best he could, but was fairly sure it must look a bit strained. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but goodness knows what he was letting himself in for.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking this may end up as a series... I'm unexpectedly fond of it.   
> (And if you're as mad as me and want to add to this happy new AU I've created please do!)


End file.
